The Founder of the Fate
by ReillyJade
Summary: Why did Salazar hate Muggle-born wizards? What caused Rowena's broken heart? How were Godric and Helga involved? But most importantly, what does any of this have to do with Draco and Hermione? An ancient wizard tells the tale. Warnings inside. *On hiatus*
1. Prologue

_**Warnings:**_

-Character deaths

-A not-entirely-happy ending (this may change, though; I haven't decided yet =P)

-A slight chance that this story will change to an M rating, depending on which route I take with it.  
This is highly unlikely, but for safety I'm letting you know now. :)

_DISCLAIMER:_ Places and characters in this story are the property and creation of the  
genius Ms. JK Rowling. No profit is being made from this story.  
It only serves to (hopefully) entertain.

* * *

**_Prologue_**

I have destroyed a young girl's life. Her whole world is in ruins because of me. She should have never been put through the grief she was forced to endure. He should not have, either. What the two of them did was not wrong by any means. They fell in love. That is not a crime, yet they suffered a fate that no two lovers should, and I am the only one to blame.

It is a miracle that I'm dead, because I don't think I would be able to live with myself right now.

It has been a thousand years since I took my last breath and left my body forever. Now, I exist only as a spirit, wandering invisibly and silently among the land. I cannot communicate verbally with the living, like the ghosts can. I've never desired that ability until now. If I had been able to, perhaps I could have warned them, saved them, done something, anything, to stop it…

Forgive me. Here I am, rambling on about my misery when I have not properly introduced myself. I apologize. My name is Folkvar. You have probably never heard of me, but I'm fairly sure you know of others like me. Perhaps you have knowledge of Merlin, the great wizard of the medieval age who put a stop to using magic against Muggles. If not Merlin, surely you have heard of Albus Dumbledore. I am certain I do not need to list the abundance of great things he has accomplished throughout his life.

I was like them. I, too, was a wizard. But things were much different when I was alive. The wizarding population was running scarce and we were very close to dying out. Back then, the majority witches and wizards did not know how to control their powers. When Muggles began to notice these instances, magical people were massacred everywhere, putting our race on an accelerated path to extinction. I was one of the lucky few who was able to manage my powers and keep them well hidden from those around me.

This was how I got my idea. I decided to become a teacher and pass on my knowledge to others. Of course, these lessons had to be done in secret. I took on four extremely promising students whose names and accomplishments would be remembered for many years to come. I taught Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin everything they knew.

As I'm sure you know, these four individuals went on to establish Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The opening of the school saved the wizarding population. Witches and wizards were able to start learning at a young age how to control their powers and, most importantly, how to conceal them from Muggles. Our population rebounded and now, a millennium later, it is larger than ever.

Though it is has been over a thousand years since I taught my final lesson to what is today known as the Hogwarts Four, those days have recently returned to haunt me. There was a period of intense turmoil between the four friends. As their teacher and mentor, I had to mend it. I did the only thing I could think of at the time, and it was a fantastic solution.

Until now.

If I had known this would happen, I would have never considered acting the way I did. My actions are a prime example that the past, regardless of how well hidden it may be, can never be escaped. Not even a thousand worry-free years can hinder that. The decision I made back then has recently unraveled into an unpredictable disaster, causing a young witch and wizard a terrible fate.

But before I tell my story, I must tell theirs. Will you listen to me? I need to tell someone everything that happened. I need to confess. If I don't get this burden off of my shoulders, I will never be at peace. Please help me. Please listen.

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**Author's Note (1/3/11):** I'm currently wrapping up another story at the moment, but the idea for this one just kinda popped into my head and I _had_ to give it a try. But nonetheless...what did you think? Is this story worth continuing? Let me know what you think in a review, even if you think it's awful. I don't want to keep writing if no one's interested in it lol XD

IF I do continue with this, however, the plan is to spend the next chapter or two during the current time, then it will dive into the time of Folkvar and the Founders.


	2. Chapter 1: Their Story

_**Chapter 1 - Their Story**_

By the standards of the wizarding world and that of the students at Hogwarts, they were meant to be rivals. They were supposed to detest each other in every possible way. And for a while, they did.

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were both declared school prefects at the start of their fifth year at Hogwarts, and part of their duties was to patrol the school corridors together two nights a week. Of course, both had fought this on several occasions by asking to be paired with another prefect student, but they never prevailed. Dumbledore had always denied their requests. He saw something in the two of them that they themselves did not.

It wasn't until the autumn of her sixth year when Hermione began to notice Draco in a way other than she was supposed to. Instead of seeing nothing but a piece of filth as she did for so many years, she saw something else. She saw a boy who was born into a bad family by chance, not by choice. She saw that he did have a heart despite his evil visage. Draco had begun to feel attracted to Hermione, too. He had always thought she was pretty, but now she was beautiful to him. He started to appreciate her wit, her kindness, and her devotion to those who were close to her. He began to desire that very same devotion she gave to her friends.

Naturally, they spent the majority of their twice-weekly rounds arguing, insulting each other, or simply not speaking to each other at all. But somehow, somewhere along the line, they began to tolerate each other. They began to laugh with each other, joke with each other, smile with each other. They were beginning to enjoy each other's company, though neither Hermione nor Draco would ever admit it. However, during classes, mealtimes, and encounters in the corridors, they scowled at and mocked each other, just as they were expected to do.

When Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher, paired Hermione and Draco together for an assignment, they fought it. Rather, they pretended to fight it. Each of them were secretly excited about the pairing. It meant that they had an excuse to spend more time together. When Professor Vector denied the request, claiming that they would make "an excellent team", both scowled and huffed, but returned to their respective dormitories smiling. On Hermione's end, it was the first time she found herself thinking about her partner more than the assignment itself.

Hermione and Draco were in the only two left in the library late one night. Their table was covered in open books and rolls of parchment, and was dimly lit by a single lantern in the middle and a few candles mounted on the surrounding walls. As Hermione was scribbling a passage from the book in front of her, Draco noticed a small scar on her hand. He did not need to ask where it was from because he already knew. It was from when she was petrified by the basilisk. When she saw the giant snake's eyes in the mirror she had been carrying, she had fallen onto it. The glass shattered when it collided with the floor, badly cutting her hand.

Draco asked, suddenly, "Did it hurt?"

Hermione looked up from her notes, bewildered. "I beg your pardon?"

Draco gestured toward her scar. "When it - the basilisk - attacked you, did it hurt? I've…always wondered."

She shook her head and placed her quill down gently. "No. It all happened so fast. I don't even remember it, really. I saw it's eyes in the mirror, and the next thing I knew, I was in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey hovering over me."

"I worried about you," he said quietly, looking down into his lap. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I did."

Hermione said nothing, but stared at him. How _could_ she believe him? She may have begun to see him as a different person in recent months, but he was still the boy that called her a Mudblood on several occasions during that year. This was the boy that tormented her, teased her, hated her, even. How could he, Draco, a pureblooded Malfoy, have been concerned about her well-being?

Draco continued. "My father told me about the Chamber of Secrets, and how the monster inside it targeted Muggleborns. The second I learned that, I began to worry about you. I didn't want you getting hurt." He still would not meet her gaze.

Hermione shrugged. What he was saying was sweet, but she still couldn't bring herself to find complete truth in his words. So, she simply said, "It's all in the past. I'm alright."

"I know, but I still felt bad at the time. I could have at least warned you."

"And risk tainting your status by associating with a Mudblood?" Hermione didn't intend for it to sound so harsh, but it got him to look up at her.

"Don't say that word."

She laughed a little. She had grown somewhat immune to the word and it didn't bother her much anymore. However, she found it amusing to see Draco take such offense to it after he'd used it in a hurtful manner so often in his youth.

"Why not? You've certainly used it plenty of times."

"Yeah, but it's not like I meant it."

Hermione snorted. "As if."

"Honestly, I didn't!" Draco exclaimed. He quickly hushed himself, though - just because they were the only two in the library didn't mean he could start shouting. "I'm not like them, not like my father. I don't hate Muggleborns. I don't hate _you,_ Hermione."

Her face softened, but she said nothing.

"What?" Draco asked.

"You…you called me Hermione," she said quietly.

"Well, that's your name, is it not?"

"But you've never called me that before. You've always called me Granger. Only my friends ever call me Hermione."

When Draco spoke, it was barely audible, and again, his grey eyes refused to meet her brown ones.

"Maybe I want to be your friend." He looked at her now, hoping that his eyes would speak louder than his words. He had always wanted to be her friend, but he just never knew how. He had been scared to, in fact, particularly because of what his father's reaction would be. A Malfoy could never, _ever_, befriend a Muggleborn, much less one who associated with the Weasleys and the Potter boy. It would be a disgrace to both his family and to the entire Slytherin house. Therefore, despite feeling so drawn to her for a reason he never fully understood, he played it off as if he hated her very existence.

"Really?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Yeah, I always have. But I just couldn't."

Hermione didn't need to ask why because she had gone through the very same dilemma. Little did Draco know that Hermione wanted to get to know him ever since their first ride on the Hogwarts Express. While on the train, she had been sitting alone in her compartment and she just happened to look up as he was passing by. Their eyes met briefly and they gave each other a nervous smile. He continued walking by, as he was with a few other boys, but she thought about him for quite some time after that. She made a plan to find him once the train stopped. He appeared to be a nice boy; she thought he could be her first friend in this world that was new and scary to her.

Hermione may not have grown up in the wizarding world, but upon arriving at Hogwarts, she quickly learned the social norms of the students. It was simple: Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws mingled and were friendly with each other. Slytherins kept to themselves. And if you were a Muggleborn, stay away from pureblooded Slytherins if you wanted to avoid cruelty. Though the sorting hat considered placing her in Ravenclaw, it eventually selected Gryffindor. She kept her fingers crossed that the platinum-blond-haired boy would be sorted there, too, or at least into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Her heart sank when he was sorted into Slytherin before the hat barely even touched his head.

From that moment, she knew friendship with the boy she now knew was named Draco Malfoy was out of the question. She was a Muggleborn, he was a pureblood. She was in Gryffindor, he was in Slytherin. There were her friends, then there were his friends. They were just too different. At Hogwarts, a friendship could never work between a boy like him and a girl like her, so she deliberately shoved all of the hopeful thoughts she had regarding the Malfoy boy out of her mind.

Until now, that is. Draco openly declared a longing for her friendship, and she felt the same way about him - how could either of them disregard that?

"I really wish we could be friends, Draco," she said. "But we just can't. You know that. It's too dangerous, for both of us."

He knew she was right. The Death Eaters, his father being one of them, were growing stronger everyday. Befriending her would make them both targets: he for becoming a blood traitor, and she for …well, she was already a target for her close friendship with Harry Potter, but becoming attached to Draco would make her easier to get to.

Yet here they were, late at night, talking and expressing concern for one another. It seemed that they were already friends, and they both realized it at the same time. There was no going back now.

"We just can't go public with it," he said. "We don't have to tell the world."

"But Draco…"

"Listen, Hermione. I like you. I like spending time with you. I never in a million years thought I would admit this, but being paired with you for prefect rounds was a blessing. I feel like I can be myself around you, and that's really something when I've had to act like a completely different person my whole life." He paused, but carried on almost immediately. "I'm not saying we have to go to quidditch matches together or become study-buddies, but we could just meet up sometimes. Not for prefect rounds, but just to hang out."

Hermione considered this, wondering if they could get away with it. She hated the idea of sneaking around, but she really did love spending time with Draco. Meeting in secret was the only way they could be friends without risking danger, so with a bit of coaxing and convincing, she finally agreed.

And so it began. They both returned to their homes for the Christmas break, and when they came back to school that January, they began to meet up in hidden places in the castle a couple of nights a week. They did the typical things that Hogwarts students did during their down time: played wizard's chess, ate chocolate frogs, ranted about their schoolwork, and the like. Their meetings became somewhat of a refuge for the both of them. As the inevitable war between the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters, between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, drew nearer, fear plagued them both. They worried for their friends and families, but most of all, they worried for each other. They were both in very vulnerable positions. Their late night meetings acted as an escape from the uncertainty and worry, something that both of them desperately needed.

It didn't take long for romance to blossom between the two. It was inevitable, really. Their first kiss was sweet and innocent, but was unfortunately a trigger for trouble. It is much easier to successfully keep a friendship a secret than it is to conceal a relationship, as the latter almost always results in conflict. This I am all too familiar with due to my days with the Founders.

But more of that later.

Hermione's and Draco's final months as sixth year students were anything but awful. The war had not broken out yet, so there were safe for the time being. They grew closer each day, and their attraction for each other evolved into love. Surprisingly, none of their friends suspected a thing. They were very good at keeping their romance quiet.

That summer was a difficult one for the young couple. Visiting each other wasn't possible for obvious reasons, so all they could do was send letters to each other late in the night. But even this had to kept to a minimum; the Ministry of Magic had begun intercepting owls at random in hopes of finding clues about the whereabouts of Death Eaters, so even writing to each other was risky.

Needless to say, as their seventh and final year at Hogwarts commenced, the idea of finally being able to see each other every day made both Hermione and Draco more excited for school than ever before. They carried on with their secret relationship. Draco would send Hermione sweet letters in class, being sure to cast an invisibility charm on them before sending them her way. She would send him little gifts she'd purchased in Hogsmeade by owl, disguising them as parcels from his parents. They would sneak away at night to abandoned classrooms to make love. They were the world to each other.

They had it all planned out. When the war began, they would run away and go into hiding. As Draco did not want anything to do with the Death Eaters, fighting was out of the question. He would be forced to fight on their side, and he wouldn't risk having to duel against Hermione. Instead, the two of them would help the Order in other ways from their hiding place. They were sure the Order would win, and when the war was over, they could be together, out in the open. It was a magnificent plan.

Then it happened. The worst possible thing that could have happened to Hermione and Draco at such a perilous and sensitive time occurred just three weeks before Christmas.

I should have seen it coming.

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**Author's Note (1/12/11):** Chapter 2 is in the works and should be up soon! Thanks for reading! Review, maybe? xx :)


	3. Chapter 2: The Sacrifice

_**Chapter 2 - The Sacrifice**_

It was a rarity for Hermione to panic. When things started to take a turn for the worse and simply not go her way, she typically handled them in a calm, rational manner. She would do everything in her power to come up with a logical solution to the problem. And, in a sense, that was what she did in this case.

It was early December of her and Draco's seventh year when Hermione found out she was nearly two months pregnant. With the war itching to start, she knew this was an issue of extreme sensitivity and it needed to be kept a complete secret to ensure both hers and Draco's safety. Therefore, her first inclination was to get rid of the baby and pretend the pregnancy never happened. This was her plan for about three days until she realized she did not have the heart to do it. Then she decided she would confide in an Order member, perhaps Nymphadora Tonks, and have them keep her hidden until the baby arrived. It broke her heart to consider leaving school early, but she did not have many other options.

She decided telling Draco about the baby wouldn't be in the best interest for either of them. For starters, she did not want to burden him with the worry. Secondly, it would put him in even more danger. If she left school, he would undoubtedly want to accompany her, and it would only be a matter of time before Lucius learned his only son vanished from school. Not only would Lucius search for Draco, but he would do anything to find him, including terrorizing the students and staff for information that they wouldn't have.

Nonetheless, life went on as usual for a while. Hermione, naturally, was concerned about her condition, but she had a plan for handling it and therefore did not panic. But even a girl as strong and intelligent as she couldn't completely conceal her emotions, especially from the man who loved her. Draco could sense that something was troubling her. He questioned her about it on a couple of occasions, but each time she brushed it off with an excuse that usually involved lots of homework or stress about holiday shopping. Out of respect, Draco stopped asking, but he still had the nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

They were conducting their prefect rounds late one night before Christmas, and Hermione was rather fidgety. She had owled Tonks a few days prior and still hadn't received a response. Though she had kept the note extremely brief and lacking in detail, only stating that they needed to talk, Hermione was still worried. Had the owl been intercepted? Had something happened to Tonks? Had Tonks figured why Hermione was writing to her, and did not want to help?

They were walking silently through one of the many empty corridors, and Draco decided that enough was enough. He stopped her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"What's going on?"

Hermione jerked away from him. "Nothing. Everything's fine."

"No, everything is not fine. I know something is troubling you. What is it? You know you can talk to me about anything."

Hermione looked at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Not this," she whispered.

"Why not?" He gently touched her chin and tilted her face upward. "Hermione, I love you and I'm worried about you. Please, talk to me."

For the first time since she learned she was pregnant, Hermione burst into tears.

"Merlin, Hermione, don't cry!" Draco said. He pulled her into a hug and she buried her face into his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, please don't cry…"

"I'm…I…I'm…" she choked out in between sobs.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm right here. Don't cry."

After a couple of minutes, though it seemed like hours, Hermione calmed down. She wiped her wet eyes with the sleeve of her Gryffindor robe.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to break down like that. I'm just-"

He stopped her. "You don't have to apologize. I kept pushing you, and-"

"I'm pregnant, Draco." The words were out before she could stop them, and Hermione instantly regretted it. She had been so adamant about not telling Draco about the baby - not until the war was over, at least - and she blew it.

"You're kidding," he whispered.

She shook her head as she felt tears threatening to fall again.

"How long have you known?"

Hermione looked down. "About two or three weeks. I'm two months along."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's a bit obvious, don't you think?" Hermione said, raising her eyes to meet his. "We're heading into a war, Draco. It's crazy enough that we're in love. Imagine what would happen if your dad found out you impregnated a…a _Mudblood_…"

"Don't use that word!" Draco exclaimed, but he let it pass considering the matter at hand. "Listen to me Hermione. I love you. We _will_ figure this out. Perhaps we could stay with someone in the Order for the time being. Go into hiding a little earlier than we anticipated, maybe."

She shrugged. "I already wrote to Tonks."

"And?"

"And nothing," Hermione said. "It's been days and I haven't heard anything back from her yet."

"Then we'll try again during the holidays. We'll both be here over the break, and the school will be close to deserted. Maybe we can get one of the teachers to allow her to visit by Floo so we can talk to her. But Hermione…" Draco gently tucked one of her stray curls behind her ear. "Whatever happens, it will be okay. I promise."

The pair stood in the empty corridor hugging for a long time. When they parted, Hermione was feeling better. She headed back to her dormitory, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts as he walked in the opposite direction. He wasn't sure of his feelings about the baby. He truly wanted to be happy - he loved Hermione, after all, and this would attach the two of them forever. However, the circumstances were awful. Bringing new life into the world in the midst of war seemed cruel to Draco. But this baby was half of Hermione, half of him…

"You _dog!_" came a voice, alarming Draco.

Draco spun around to see Vincent Crabbe, a fellow Slytherin he pretended to be friends with.

"What are you doing out here, Crabbe? It's late."

Crabbe ignored him. "I can't believe it. You knocked up Granger! Your dad is gonna be pissed!"

"Shut up, Crabbe…"

"I mean, she's bloody gorgeous, but she's a Mudblood, man!"

"Don't call her that!" Draco exclaimed. Without realizing it, he pulled out his wand and aimed it straight at Crabbe. "I swear, if you let anyone find out about this, you'll be dead before you can scream!"

His face flushed and he nodded. "Yeah, of course, man. I won't tell."

Draco lowered his wand. "Good. Now get out of here."

Crabbe sauntered off, leaving Draco in a state of mental chaos. He was bombarded with love for Hermione, anger toward his arrogant father, sadness about the torment his unborn child was destined to face, and worry that Crabbe may let the secret slip. He felt stupid for discussing such a sensitive issue with Hermione in the corridor, where they could have been heard by anyone. He put both of them in even more danger by doing that, because if Crabbe told…

He shook his head. He had threatened Crabbe, and he was a coward. He wouldn't tell. Draco was sure of it.

Christmas break came soon enough, and the corridors of Hogwarts became eerily calm and quiet - a stark contrast to their typical chaotic nature. Hermione and Draco spent Christmas together in one of the many abandoned classrooms they so often visited. The days afterward were relaxing. They finally got in touch with Tonks. She never received Hermione's original letter, but when she spoke with the two of them, she agreed to get them both into hiding by the end of January.

If only it could have been done sooner…

It was the night before the rest of the students were expected to return to Hogwarts when it happened. Hermione was visiting Hagrid, so Draco was doing some studying in the library. When the door opened, he wasn't phased, until he heard a voice. The voice of his father.

"Hello, Draco," he said coldly.

Draco looked up, startled, and when he saw Lucius's face, he nearly gasped.

"Hel-Hello, father," he stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't just stop in for a friendly visit with my son?" he said, though there wasn't the slightest hint of friendliness in his voice. He threw a torn envelope onto the table. "Would you mind explaining this to me?"

Draco eyed the envelope curiously, then looked up at Lucius. "I don't know what that is, father."

"Open it."

Draco reluctantly took the letter from the envelope and unfolded it. His eyes widened when he recognized Hermione's handwriting.

_Tonks,_

_We need to talk. I'm in trouble. I hope to hear from you soon - it's important._

_-Hermione_

"Now what could that possibly mean?" Lucius asked in too casual of a tone.

Draco could feel his heart beating wildly, but he knew he had to play the part of the clueless son. Therefore, he rolled his eyes and asked, "Why do you even have this?"

"Surely you know the Ministry has been intercepting owls," Lucius said. "And when I see a letter from a Mudblood at Hogwarts written to a member of the Order, naturally I assume it poses a threat to _our_ cause."

Draco said nothing. He simply stared at Lucius.

"Well, boy? What does it mean?"

"How should I know?" Draco asked. "How am I supposed to know what the little Mudblood is up to?" It killed Draco to use the vulgar word, but he knew he had to convince his father he knew nothing.

"Interesting," Lucius said.

"What do you mean, 'interesting'?"

"I never thought my only son would lie to me."

Draco scowled. "What makes you think I'm lying? Why would I know what's wrong with Granger?"

"How about you tell me why just the other day, Vyron Crabbe called me 'Grandpa'?"

Draco's heart sank. Crabbe had told his father, and now Lucius knew.

Draco attempted to brush it off as if it were nothing. "That's absurd."

"It seems pretty clear to me." Lucius picked up the letter and examined it. "The Granger girl says she's in trouble. Vyron is telling me you told his son the two of you are together. Coincidence only goes so far, Draco."

Draco said nothing. He avoided his father's eyes.

"Are you with the Mudblood?" he asked quietly.

"Don't call her that," Draco whispered.

"That's a yes, then," Lucius said.

"So what?" Draco exclaimed, finally facing his father. "So I fell in love with a Muggleborn. Why is that so wrong?"

"You know damn well why!" Lucius exclaimed. "You're my son! A pureblooded Malfoy! You're above that Mudblood whore!"

"She is not a whore! How dare you say that about her? You don't even know her!"

"I know she seduced my only son, and because of her, the Malfoy line is ruined! Tainted! We'll now have a half-blooded bastard in the family!"

Draco instinctively pulled out his wand. "My child is not a bastard!"

Lucius took Draco by surprise - he tightly grabbed the collar of his Slytherin robe and pushed him up against the wall.

"I gave you everything, boy. Everything! And all I asked was that you give the Malfoy name to a _pureblooded_ child! Not some half-blood with a trashy Mudblood for a mother!"

"What difference does it make? I love her, dad. That should be enough."

"Don't call me that," Lucius said.

"Call you what?"

"Don't call me 'dad'." Lucius leaned in so his face was only inches away from Draco's. When he spoke, it was quiet, but the anger and hatred in his voice was impossible to ignore.

"You betrayed me," he said, "and you're no longer any son of mine."

Lucius roughly let go of Draco's collar and backed away. Draco remained where he was, stunned, and watched his father exit the library.

Meanwhile, Hermione had just finished her tea with Hagrid and was saying her farewell. Remember earlier when I told you that I wished I could have been a ghost? This was the moment. If I could have, I would have glided straight into that hut and told her not to leave, that it wasn't safe. But I couldn't. I could only watch painfully as she exited the hut and onto the snowy Hogwarts grounds.

It was only a couple of minutes before her path inevitably crossed Lucius's. She tried to hide her surprise when she saw him, and she greeted him with all of the politeness she could muster.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," she said as they drew nearer to each other.

"Ms. Granger," he said coldly. He tightened his jacket around his shoulder. "My, it is cold out here, isn't it?"

She nodded. "It is. I should be getting inside." She faked a smile and proceeded to walk past him.

"Yes. A girl in your condition shouldn't be outside on a night like this."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Though she did not turn to face him, she could feel his cold eyes staring her down. She knew she should run, but her legs wouldn't oblige.

"You've tainted my pure family line, you filthy slag," Lucius growled.

Hermione could feel her heart pound against her ribcage. How had he found out? Was Draco okay? Tears formed in her eyes when she thought of what Lucius may have done to him already.

Suddenly, she was being forced backward against her will. She fought against it, but Lucius was very gifted with levitating spells. She glided past his smirking face, and then she felt her back hit a tree. She was too scared to move as Lucius slowly walked toward her, wand pointed at her.

"You know, Mudblood, my son seems to think he's in love with you," he said.

"He is," Hermione choked out. "And I love him."

Lucius laughed a cruel laugh. "Silly girl. He can't love you. You're nothing but a pathetic little Mudblood whore. And that," he pointed his wand at her stomach, "is nothing but a half-blooded brat."

Hermione began to cry. "Please…don't…"

"Oh, but I must. I can't have a half-blood in my family, Mudblood. I'll be the laugh of the Death Eaters."

"Mr. Malfoy, please…please don't hurt my baby…Draco's baby…"

He laughed again. "Ah, a mother's love. So powerful." An evil grin painted itself on his face. "Not to worry, dirty Mudblood, you're going with it."

Hermione gasped as Lucius raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted.

Hermione saw the bright green light emerge from the tip of his wand before she squeezed her eyes shut. As tears ran down her face, she braced herself for death.

But death never came. She was still breathing. She could still feel her heart beating. She still felt tears rolling down her face. She brought her hand down to her belly. There was no damage there, either. The baby was fine.

Hermione cracked open her eyes. Lucius was still standing there, his outstretched hand holding his wand. He appeared to be as shocked as she was. He was shaking as he looked at the ground. Hermione followed his gaze, then screamed.

Draco was lying at her feet. She fell to her knees, sobbing. She placed a hand over his chest, then on his neck, his temple, his wrist. No pulse. No heartbeat. He had jumped in front of his father's killing curse. He was gone.

Hermione cradled Draco's body in her arms and cried uncontrollably until there were no tears left. The Aurors had arrived on the scene almost immediately to take Lucius to Azkaban. He had used an Unforgivable Curse, giving them instant knowledge of his whereabouts. Tonks had been one of the Aurors who came. Instead of going back with the others, she stayed with Hermione until Draco's body was collected by Madame Pomfrey.

A funeral was held in the Great Hall a few days later, but Hermione did not cry. She had cried all of the tears she could on the night Draco gave his own life to save hers and their unborn child's. All she was now was numb.

Afterward, Hermione left school and went to live with Tonks. The Aurors decided this would be safer for her, in case the remaining Death Eaters wanted to finish what Lucius started. Her friends wrote to her often, telling her how much they missed her and loved her, and they reassured her that everything would eventually be okay. But not even this cheered her up. Hermione had lost the love of her life, and she fell into an awful state of depression. She refused to leave her room, and she rarely ate. She gave up reading, along with all of her other favorite activities. She even considered suicide a couple of times, but every time that thought came to her mind, she immediately dismissed it. If she killed herself, Draco's sacrifice would have been for nothing. She needed to stay alive to bring her child, a living piece of Draco, into the world. And until that time came, she remained broken and dismal, mourning her lost love in a quiet seclusion.

I told you earlier how all of this was my fault, that I had caused both Hermione's and Draco's wretched fate, and I'm sure you're wondering why. After all, I've been dead for a thousand years. How could I, Folkvar, be responsible for any of this?

To explain everything, we must go back. Way back. Allow me to take you to where it all started. Let me bring you back to the time of the Hogwarts Four.

* * *

**Author's Note (1/22/11):** Don't throw tomatoes! It broke my heart to kill Draco. I hope you aren't too mad at me... :-/

Just to clear up any confusion, this will be a story within a story. The next few chapters will be spent with the Founders, and then it will come back to present day. Reviews, as always, are appreciated. Any predictions on what happened between the Founders?

Chapter 3 may take a little longer to come out. I'm currently finishing up the second-to-last chapter of my other story, _Gryffindor Girls..._it's been a while since I updated that one, and I feel that it's due. But I won't forget this one, I promise! I expect Chapter 3 to be done shortly! :)


	4. Chapter 3: The Beginning

_**Chapter 3 - The Beginning**_

My story begins in my homeland of Sweden. I learned of my powers when I was eight years old, and I was blessed with the ability to tame them. Throughout the years, I learned that I was able to do advanced magic that most witches and wizards could not. I do not mean to brag, but I was a very gifted wizard. But all across Europe, people with magical blood were deemed children of the devil and were murdered regularly by frightened Muggles. As someone who could manage my powers, I knew I had the responsibility to teach others of my kind to do the same. I was about forty-five years old when I decided to become a teacher. I chose to relocate to Britain, as this was where the turmoil between wizards and Muggles was the worst.

It was when I was traveling east through Sweden when I met Helga, who would be the youngest of the four. I found her walking alone through the woods, dragging a small trunk behind her. She looked quite frail in her weathered clothing, and her long blonde hair was tied behind her head in a braid with a black ribbon. I did not know right away that she was witch until she told me why she was in the woods in the first place. Her parents were "strange", as the townspeople had called it. She was considered normal. When the townspeople murdered her parents for their odd behavior, they tried to take Helga away and give her to another family in the village. Something inside of her snapped. The house went up in flames, and she had no idea how it happened. The townspeople scattered in fear. Helga had managed to save her trunk from the blaze and she took off. She feared being hunted down by those who killed her parents, so she hid in the woods. She was only eleven, a sweet girl with a kind spirit, and my heart broke for her.

Helga came with me, excited to learn about her powers. About three weeks later, we were in Norway, and this was where we met fourteen-year-old Salazar. He was a tall, handsome lad with hair as black as night and eyes as blue as day. He, too, was a runaway, but for slightly different reasons. He had let his powers slip in the presence of a Muggle who was attempting to steal the ring he wore on his left index finger. Surrounding Muggles saw and charged toward him. In a panic, he thought of them all being blown off their feet, and that very event happened two seconds later, just as they were about to attack. They all landed about five hundred meters away. Before they could get up, Salazar ran as fast and as far as he could. He was a great addition to our group. He and Helga became instant friends and would remain that way for quite a few years.

The three of us were traveling together for a couple of months before we arrived in Scotland, where we immediately met Godric. He was a charismatic fellow with flaming red hair that you could see from a mile away. At thirteen years old, he had perhaps the most heart-wrenching story of the four. Godric had been banished from his home for being different. His parents had feared he would bring trouble to the home if anyone noticed his devilish powers, as they called them. He was eleven when he was thrown out; he had been alone for nearly two years. Godric was the only Hogwarts founder who was Muggleborn.

I'll admit that I was initially skeptical about Godric joining us. Both he and Salazar were confident and ambitious individuals, and I feared they may have clashed. But how could I have left him? He was all alone, and he was still a very young wizard who needed help in controlling his powers. As it turned out, though, I did not have to worry at all. Salazar and Godric got along extremely well, bonding like brothers.

When we finally made it to England, we met the final member of the four. Rowena was a brown-haired, brown-eyed lass with an aura of fortitude. She was twelve and intelligent beyond her years. She had been traveling with her aunt, who had died two weeks before we met her. Rowena was fortunate enough to have some knowledge of her powers, because her aunt had been teaching her things since she was nine years old. She still had a lot to learn, though.

And so our lessons began. I was extremely pleased with how bright these four students were. Godric and Salazar were both particularly good at defensive spells and would practice dueling with each other often. Helga was extremely gifted with both charms and potions, making her a very good healer, and this came in handy when the boys' duels occasionally went wrong. Rowena took a keen interest in everything, but her strongest suit was transfiguration. She often used this talent to turn nearby pebbles and stones into life-size dummies for everyone to practice spells on. With each passing year, the four grew wiser and brighter, and they were the best of friends. Salazar and Godric were very competitive with each other, but it was always good-natured and fun. Helga and Rowena were like sisters. They were always laughing with each other and sharing secrets. I don't think I could have asked for better students.

Four years after our very first lesson, it was fifteen-year-old Helga who suggested broadening my teachings to other young witches and wizards, and Salazar, Godric, and Rowena all seemed to agree. I'll admit that this was something I had thought about occasionally, but I wasn't getting any younger. Now that the four were nearly grown up and had learned mostly everything I could have taught them, I had been planning to settle down somewhere in Britain, or perhaps even return to Sweden. As if he were reading my mind, Salazar made another suggestion.

"Well, we could teach them," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Salazar has a point, Folkvar," Rowena said. "You've taught us so much. You've done your part. We can be the teachers now."

It wasn't a bad idea. I knew without a doubt that the four of them were perfectly capable of taking on students of their own. But for some reason, I didn't want them going out on their own.

Helga seemed to sense this. "What is it, Folkvar?"

"It's just…I mean…" I sighed, attempting to choose my words carefully. "I don't think I'm ready to let the four of you go just yet."

"Why not?" Godric asked. "You've taught us well. We'll be okay. There are so many other children that need to learn your teachings. If they don't learn how to control their powers, our race is doomed."

And he was right. There were an abundance of young witches and wizards throughout Britain and the rest of Europe who had no idea how to handle their powers. Some of them were probably Muggleborn, like Godric, and were being thrown out of their homes or even killed.

But Helga, Salazar, Godric, and Rowena had become the children I never had. I was protective of them and I loved them. We had become a family over those four years, and the thought of leaving them broke my heart. So instead of completely sending them off, I made a bargain.

"Okay," I agreed. "You can begin teaching others. You're ready. But I'm going to stay with you for a while and help you out."

So we then began to travel together for the next three years, and the five of us met witches and wizards of all ages. Some of them were as young as six or seven, while others were as old as me. But most of them were the same ages as the four. They had similar stories, too. They were runaways and orphans, alone and scared.

This was when Rowena came up with her brilliant idea. The five of us were in Scotland at the time, and the consistent traveling was beginning to take its toll on all of us, especially me. After the students of the day had gone to the respective homes, we were huddled around a fire that Godric had produced in our camp.

"How about a school?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" the rest of us asked in unison.

"A school," she said. "A school of witchcraft and wizardry. We could invite witches and wizards from all across Britain, all across Europe, even, and teach them what we know."

"I don't know, Rowena, that seems tricky," Salazar said.

"Tricky how?"

"Well, for one, how do we even know who to invite? We'd have to somehow track down every person with magical blood. Where do we start?"

"I'm sure there's a way," she said. She turned toward me. "Folkvar? Is it possible?"

I nodded. I hadn't taught them _everything._ A man had to have some secrets, after all.

"There is a way, yes, but it would be very difficult to track everyone down," I said. "It would take quite a bit of time."

"That's okay. We'll need time to construct the school, anyway."

"Speaking of that," Godric said, "where exactly are we going to put it?"

Rowena looked around thoughtfully. "Why not right here?"

Our camp was set up on the top of a grassy hill overlooking a large, dark lake. It was surrounded by hills, just like the one we were on, and even I had to admit the view was breathtaking.

"We'll build a castle," Rowena said, pointing across the lake. "Right there. We'll build a huge, magical castle nestled in the hills. It'll have rooms for the students to sleep in. A library. Plenty of classrooms. Even an infirmary for Helga to put her healing skills to work."

Helga eyed her best friend curiously. "You've given this quite a bit of thought, haven't you?"

Rowena shrugged and blushed. "Kind of. I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? Right now, we have to move around consistently and can only spend a little time with everyone. If there was a school, we would be stationed there. Witches and wizards could come to us, and could stay as long or as little as they need. Our lives would not be so hectic, and they could spend a sufficient amount of time learning."

Helga looked at me, Salazar, and Godric. "It's not a bad idea."

Godric nodded. "I'm in."

"Me, too," Salazar said. He turned toward me. "Folkvar?"

They had all grown and matured so much since we first began our lessons. I know that when they first talked to me about taking on students by themselves, they were all smart and perfectly capable of being on their own. But I had still been worried, probably because of the consistent traveling. However, Rowena's idea put me at ease, knowing they would be together in one spot. They could do it, and this would truly be their own time to shine.

Hence why I could not accept to be involved.

"But Folkvar!" Helga exclaimed. "You're an excellent teacher!"

"And now, you will be excellent teachers, but on your own," I said. I looked at them all with admiration. "The four of you are fantastic individuals. You're intelligent and talented, and I can assure you that your students will benefit as greatly from you as you apparently have from me. But this magnificent school will be yours, and yours alone. I will not deny you your moments in the sun. This is an opportunity for the four of you to show how brilliant you really are, and I would like for it to be done on your own accord, not because you have a wise old man at your side."

"You're not old!" Godric exclaimed.

I chuckled. "You've always been exceedingly kind, Godric. But honestly, look at me." My graying beard was longer than ever, and the wrinkles in my skin were becoming more prominent by the day.

"But only you know how to find them, Folkvar," Rowena said. "You said you knew how to find the people with magical blood."

"And I will assist you with that," I said. "While the four of you construct the school, I will locate witches and wizards of Britain. But then, I will leave this wonderful project to all of you. You will make it your own, and it will be great."

It turned out that every word I said was true. The four constructed a beautiful castle that was beyond anything I imagined. They had thought of everything. A tower for astronomy, a room for awards, a majestic hall for mealtimes, and even a separate tower to house owls that students could use to communicate with their families. Each of them even made a place to call their own. Both Rowena and Godric built their own towers. Helga and Salazar, however, opted to construct areas underground because the consistent darkness and necessity for candlelight reminded them of wintertime in Sweden and Norway.

In the meantime, I tracked down witches and wizards across Britain by means of magic I hadn't taught the four. There were certain things I decided not to teach them because I felt that they were better left unknown. This was one of them, because in the wrong hands, the technique could just as easily be used for bad. It's not that I didn't trust the four with this knowledge; I was just skeptical about it possibly being learned by thousands of students.

That September, they came. Witches and wizards of all ages arrived at the school named Hogwarts. Salazar had come up with the name; it was an anagram containing the first letters of the four's first and middle names (Helga Adelene, Rowena Othelia, Godric Tobias, Salazar Weiss). I had settled down nearby in Scotland, but I visited frequently.

During the school's first few years, things went smoothly. They all got to spend time with each student, but it was clear that they had their favorite types. Godric loved the students who were like him: the ones who sought adventure and weren't afraid of a little danger (I suspect this trait of Godric's came from his two years fending for himself at a young age.) Rowena worked best with those who put their studies before anything else. Salazar preferred the students who were ambitious and stopped at nothing to achieve their learning goals. And kind, sweet-natured Helga, who was ever so encouraging, patient, and helpful, worked well with everyone. Despite their preferences, the four of them loved all of their students as much as they loved teaching them all the things they had learned from me.

But, naturally, things could not be peaceful and perfect forever. During Hogwarts' fifth year of existence, things began to change between the four. They were all in their twenties now. Spending so much time together in such close proximity lead to some unavoidable attractions between them.

Helga could not help but admire Salazar. I had predicted it would happen at some point. During the months when it was just me and them, before we met Godric and Rowena, Helga and Salazar had developed a special bond. Their situations for leaving home were so similar and they truly understood both the pain and excitement one another felt. She looked up to him then, and she still did in some ways. Helga saw him as both a great teacher and a wonderful person with a good heart, and this was completely true. Despite what today's books about the him, trust me when I say that Salazar Slytherin was indeed a good person in the beginning.

Helga never said anything about her feelings then because she knew it would be a waste of time. About a month after they met, Salazar had told Helga she was "the little sister he never got to have," and Helga knew that he still felt this way. He cared about her and he did love her, just not in the way she had come to love him. Helga, however, did not hold a grudge against him for this, nor did she take it personally. She knew that people could not control how they felt, nor could they choose who they loved. So while it saddened her that she and Salazar could never be, she accepted it and had faith that she would find love with another person someday.

Rowena, however, had developed an attraction toward Godric. I assume it was because he was so different from her; she preferred to stay indoors and play it safe, while Godric craved adventure and the adrenaline rush that came along with it. But Rowena kept her feelings to herself, sharing them only with Helga, her best friend. She did not want to create any unnecessary awkwardness between herself and Godric, and she certainly did not want such a thing interfering with their teaching. In her eyes, the students came before anything else.

So Helga loved Salazar and Rowena loved Godric; it seemed harmless enough, and I suspect it actually was for a little while. It wasn't until Godric came to visit me one night that I realized that a problem was beginning to brew, and that a nasty fight would shortly follow. I was shocked to open my door and see him standing there in such a flustered state. He was soaked and shivering from the cold rain that cascaded down from the night sky.

"Godric, my dear boy!" I said. "Come in, come in. I'll grab you a blanket."

Godric mumbled a thanks to me and hurried inside. I had built a small cottage in the highlands of Scotland, just a short broom ride away from Hogwarts. Godric paced across the wooden floor.

"You just missed Salazar," I told him. "He just dropped in for a visit about an hour ago. How are things with you, Godric?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, Folkvar. I have a problem."

I eyed him curiously. "Nothing too serious, I hope?"

"I'm not sure yet," Godric said. He stopped pacing and sat down across from me. "May I ask you something personal?"

I nodded. "I suppose."

"How come you never had a wife or children?"

It was certainly not the question I was expecting. This was a painful subject for me, one I had never discussed with anyone.

"Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just curious."

I sighed. I could tell this meant something to him. Godric was a very polite person; he would never ask something so personal unless he had a very good reason to. So I told him.

"There was a woman, many years ago. Her name was Dahlia."

"What was she like?"

I smiled at the memory. "She was beautiful, and exceedingly brilliant. I fell in love with her when we were seventeen, but I was too shy to admit this to her. I feared that she did not share my feelings and I did not want to risk damaging the wonderful friendship the two of us had created."

"So what happened to her? Where is she now?"

I sighed. "I'm afraid she had the same dilemma that you did, Godric. She was a Muggleborn. I tried with all of my might to help her tame her magic, but one day, she snapped. Another man in the village…he tried to…he…" I stopped, not wanting to remember what Dahlia had told me about the near assault on her. I looked at Godric, and his eyes told me that he understood, that I need not elaborate any further on the subject.

So I continued. "Naturally, in self defense, her magic erupted beyond her control. She came to me that night and told me that she needed to leave, that the other people in the village would be after her once they learned what she had done to that man. I agreed, and we both went to our respective homes to gather our things. We said we'd meet at the edge of the woods in one hour. But…" I choked up a bit at the memory.

Godric already seemed to know what had happened, so he finished for me. "They were waiting for her at her home, weren't they?"

I nodded, a tear escaping my eye as I did so. "The people in the village…they called her the daughter of the devil, a product of evil, and they killed her. They killed my Dahlia. She died without ever knowing how much I loved her, how much I wanted to be with her forever. Had I confessed my feelings, I could have married her and taken her far away from that place, before any of that had ever happened. She could have been a teacher with me. Maybe if I had just mustered up the courage to tell her, she wouldn't be dead."

"I'm so sorry, Folkvar…"

I'm not sure how I suddenly realized why Godric wanted to know about this. Perhaps it was because Salazar had visited me earlier regarding a similar issue, or that Godric's sudden interest in love stories painted an obvious picture. Either way, I knew what was troubling him.

"Godric," I asked, "you're in love with someone, aren't you?"

He blushed and nodded.

"You're wondering whether you should tell her."

The younger man stood again and began to pace. "I don't know. I want to, but what if she rejects me? What if she never wants to speak to me again?"

I chuckled a little bit. I saw some of myself in him. "I highly doubt that will happen, Godric."

"Well…it could."

"Listen to me, Godric," I said. "If you've learned anything from my teachings since you and I first met, learn this above all: when you love someone, tell them. Something could happen and you may never have the opportunity again. I've regretted not telling Dahlia how I felt ever since the day I lost her forever."

"You really think it's worth it?"

"Yes! Not to mention, whoever she is, she'd be a fool not to accept you. You're a talented wizard, a kind man, and one of the founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and you're only twenty-four years old. Who knows what else you may accomplish in your lifetime? Any woman would be lucky to have you."

Godric nodded, then he smiled slightly. "Alright…yes. I'm going to do it! I mean, if I don't, I'll just spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been, right?"

I said, "You will. I wonder 'what if?' every single day. It's not a good feeling, Godric. Trust me."

He hugged me briefly then headed for the door. Godric had a spirit unlike any I had ever seen, and it showed even more so when he was confident about something. This was one of those moments. He had a goofy smile on his face that you only see on a young man who is sweet on lovely lady. How I missed the innocent days of youth.

"So just think," Godric said, smiling brightly as he opened the door, "the next time you see me, I might have Rowena on my arm!"

My eyes widened. "Rowena? You're in love with Rowena?"

"How could I not be, Folkvar? She's brilliant, beautiful, and as kind as they come."

I shrugged. "Yes, well…yes. Of course."

He beamed. "Wish me luck! I'll come visit again soon. Good night!" And with that, the love-struck Godric hopped out of my cabin and into the pouring rain.

I stared at the spot where Godric had just been standing. He loved Rowena Ravenclaw. Of all people.

I have nothing against Rowena, of course. She truly was everything Godric had described her as and more. If Godric did go through with confessing his feelings for her, he and Rowena would have made a lovely couple. But there was a bigger issue than that, one that I had no knowledge of until about an hour before Godric turned up on my doorstep.

Salazar was smitten with Rowena, too.

* * *

**Author's Note (2/23/11):** Sorry for the lack of drama/excitement in this chapter, but it had to be done. Hopefully the next chapter makes up for it!

Let me know how you're liking (or disliking) the story in a review. The more I know people care about the story, the more likely I am to update quickly :)


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